


there's no plan, there's no race to be run

by makatho



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Charlie Weasley, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Injury Recovery, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Queer Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Rating May Change, there might be tropes, vaguely described injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makatho/pseuds/makatho
Summary: Harry stretches his whole body towards the snitch. Just a tiny bit further and he will be able to close his hand around the familiar cool metal. The moment he feels the snitch’s vibration in his fingertips he registers the whooshing sound from his right and Harry’s stomach drops. A few things happen at the same time. His mind flashes back to a comically similar situation in his second year at Hogwarts, the snitch flutters in his grasp, the deafening siren marks the end of the match and Puddlemere United’s fourth win in a row. And a well-placed Bludger smashes into the side of Harry’s face.or:Harry sustains a bad injury during a Quidditch match and has to take time off to recover. He finds clean air, tranquillity and maybe something else he didn't bargain for in Romania with Charlie.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	there's no plan, there's no race to be run

**Author's Note:**

> A few things, bear with me:  
I've had a vague idea for this fic forever and quarantine finally made me start writing it.
> 
> Obviously, I don't own any of these characters and make no profits from this work. Nevertheless, JKR made me intimately understand death of the author. The epilogue is heteronormative, conservative bullshit and I've elected to therefore ignore it almost entirely.
> 
> And just to make it clear from the beginning: Harry is 26 and Charlie is 33 in this. I like this ship a lot (hence why I'm writing it) but ONLY when the characters are at an age where their age difference doesn't make me vibrate out of my skin anymore. (17 and 24 is a little yikes-y, folks.)
> 
> I'm not an experienced writer, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta reader. Constructive feedback and corrections are always welcome but please don't be obnoxious.

Harry stretches his whole body towards the snitch. Just a tiny bit further and he will be able to close his hand around the familiar cool metal. The moment he feels the snitch’s vibration in his fingertips he registers the whooshing sound from his right and Harry’s stomach drops. A few things happen at the same time. His mind flashes back to a comically similar situation in his second year at Hogwarts, the snitch flutters in his grasp, the deafening siren marks the end of the match and Puddlemere United’s fourth win in a row. And a well-placed Bludger smashes into the side of Harry’s face. Pain shoots through his skull down his spine and into his limbs accompanied by a sickening crack. The last thing that Harry feels is his grip loosening and gravity pulling him off his broomstick towards the ground. Then he blacks out.

Consciousness creeps back to Harry slowly. His body feels like lead, there’s a thrumming in his head and his eyelids have no intention of opening. Some time passes, there’s people around him, passing back and forth, muttering. After what might have been seconds or hours drifting in and out of coherent thoughts, Harry finally wills his eyes to open. The blinding light on the ceiling above forces him to blink a few times before his eyes focus on his surroundings. A patient room in St. Mungo’s, clearly. Frequent hospital visits are a side effect of being a professional Quidditch player and Harry has spent enough hour here to recognize it even in his delirious state.

There are a few people in the room – nurses fussing around, Puddlemere’s own healer talking to a St. Mungo’s healer and on chairs next to Harry’s bed Ron and Ginny. The two Weasleys along with Hermione are Harry’s official emergency contacts and it’s not the first time that they sit by his side after getting hurt on the Quidditch pitch. Usually they look more exasperated than concerned but going by the siblings’ current expressions, Harry might be in trouble.

“Thank Merlin, you’re finally awake!” Ron lets out a breath he seems to have been holding for a while.

“Harry Potter, is it too much to ask of you to get through one season without a major injury? I can do it, everyone else can do it, why not you too?” Ginny doesn’t hold back. She continues in a softer tone, “You had us properly worried this time, alright? You’ve got to be more careful, Harry.”

“’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry says, his voice raspy and only half cooperating.

Ginny almost interrupts him, “No, don’t apologize be more careful. Please.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ron mutters under his breath.

The healers seem to have noticed that Harry has awoken and approache his bed. He recognized the tall black witch in St. Mungo’s robes. Harry has probably seen her before on one of his visits, but she has never treated him before.

“Mr. Potter, I am Healer Adebayo. We’re glad that you are finally awake. How are you feeling? You shouldn’t be in any pain right now,” she says.

Harry takes a second to assess his state. “Uh, everything feels heavy, my face feels numb, but no pain. What happened? Did I fall of my broom?”

Llweyn, Puddlemere’s team healer, explains, “You got hit by a Bludger in the face the moment you caught the snitch. Knocked you right out and off your broom. And before you ask – yes, you won the match. But more importantly, and to be blunt, you got your face and shoulder smashed in and broke a few more bones when you landed on the ground. They’ve had you on a sleep draught for three days but I’m gonna let Healer Adebayo explain the details.”

Healer Adebayo continues in an even tone, “We had to put you under the influence of a strong sleeping draught for the past three days to facilitate the healing process. The bone structure of your face and skull had been severely compromised. Your shoulder and torso took considerable damage as well. Our state of the art Skele-gro and other supplementary healing magic have worked exemplary. Nevertheless, you will have to take some potions that will help tissue and muscle rehabilitation for a short while.”

Harry feels relief at the healer’s words, even as he has to concentrate very hard to follow their meaning. He would be able to get back on his broom in no time.

She was not done yet though, “However, I also have to inform you that your skull fracture also caused some trauma to your brain. We have been able to mitigate the worst as Llewyn managed to stabilise you very well. Most of the damage has already healed. As you are certainly aware, the brain is a very sensitive organ and even with magic we cannot always repair damage immediately. We expect that your spatial awareness, equilibrioception and some related motor function essential not only for Quidditch but for any sort of movement might be compromised for the time being. What this means is that you will need therapy and most importantly time to recover. Do you have any questions right now, Mr. Potter?”

Harry’s mind is still fuzzy from the sleeping draught and it’s as if Healer Adebayo is speaking behind a thick curtain. He tries to sit up in an attempt to clear his head and from a coherent thought.

“Hey, hey, take it slow, mate,” Ron mutters but helps him adjust his pillows. Ginny is looking at Harry with a small smile but she can’t hide the concerned frown.

“How long can I not play? Two weeks? Longer?” Harry asks. Healer Adebayo steps closer to his bed and clasps her hands on the foot end.

“I have to be honest here, Mr. Potter,” she says in a softer tone than before. “I know that you want to get back on your broom as soon as possible but I cannot make any promises or certain predictions, only a recommendation. With similar injuries there is usually a timeframe of two months to a year for full recovery. Unfortunately, some only see improvements. The best and only way to recovery is to give the brain time to heal and adjust itself. Therapy can help but the most important thing is to take a step back from everything.”

Harry’s stomach drops. This cannot be happening. All the upcoming matches are important. There is no time to take time off. “No, no, no … I have to play again. The championship is on the line. Llewyn, help me here,” Harry pleads.

“Harry, I get it. I really do. But you heard Healer Adebayo. There is no other choice. The only way you can help your team right now is by coming back fully healed as soon as possible. You have to take off the time necessary. No sense in rushing. I know you don’t want to hear this but doing nothing is the only thing you can do,” Llewyn says.

Harry buries his face in his hands and rubs over his eyes. “Fuck”, he hisses under his breath.

Healer Adebayo speaks up again, “If you wish to, we can discharge you tomorrow morning, Mr. Potter. I’ll be available to answer any questions that may come up and provide further recommendations for your recovery. But for now, I’ll leave you to it.” With a nod to Harry and Llewyn, she leaves the room, followed by the two nurses.

“Harry, I know you don’t want to hear this but the healer is right. The only thing you can do is take a step back and recover. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself and the team. I’m gonna leave you and your friends to talk for a bit, if that’s alright. I have to talk to your trainer anyway. Rest and don’t worry too much, okay?” Llewyn says before he leaves as well. Only Ginny and Ron are with him in the room now.

Harry drops heavily back into his pillows. With every minute, the sleeping draught wears off more, he feels less dazed and more just tired and frustrated. “Fuck Merlin’s fucking beard! Why does this have to happen now? Who’s Bludger was it? Mallow, I bet it was Mallow. This stupid goon, he better got a five match ban!” Harry vents at the ceiling.

Ginny scoots her chair closer to the bed and takes Harry’s hand in hers. “I feel with you but you need to calm down. Seriously. You heard what Healer Adebayo said. From what they told us over the last few days, you were honestly quite lucky. Your injuries were bad. Really bad.” She swallows. “You had us worried for a bit, darling.”

“Sorry, that I worried you. And thank you, for being here. I just- I just don’t know what to do now.”

Ginny squeezes his hand with a smile. “Of course, you would do the same for us. There is no rush for you to decide. But if you’d like– and we already talked to mum about it – you could stay at the Burrow for as long as you want. Mum would be delighted. You could help her in the garden and dad is always keen on your muggle expertise. You don’t have to, of course, it’s just an option.”

“Thank you, Ginny, I’ll think about it.”

Ron chimes in, “They would really love to have you. Promise that you’ll consider it.”

“Yes, Ron, I will.”

“Oh, and we’re celebrating Percy’s thirtieth birthday next week. If you’re feeling up to it, you definitely have to come. Victoire has been asking about you every time they visit.”

Harry gets the feeling that Ron is trying to change the subject but he lets it go. “I’ll think about that too.”

“By the way, it was Mallow who sent the Bludger at you and he got benched for six matches.”

“Serves him right, that bastard. At least he can’t hit me too then. We’re playing them next,” Ginny announces. “Luna was already worried, but I told her I’m faster than Harry anyway and Mallow couldn’t hit me if his career depended on it.” She winks at Harry at that.

“Sure you are,” Harry says with a small smile. “If you guys have to leave, you can, you know? I know you have practice and you need to get home to Rose and Hermione.”

“As much as I’d like to stay, you are not wrong. We have a match the day after tomorrow, so I better be there. Listen to your healers, Harry. You’re gonna be back on your broom quickest when you take off the time necessary.” Ginny gets up and plants a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Rest, take care of yourself and please call if you need anything. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.” Harry actually means it. Harry and Ginny have had a much closer relationship since they weren’t romantically involved anymore. If he needed help, he would turn to Ginny just as much as Ron and Hermione, especially since those two have their plates full with baby Rose and their careers anyway. “Have a good practice and tell Luna I said hi!”

“Will do. Bye, Harry. Bye, Ron. Give Rose a kiss for me, will you?” With that she steps out of the room.

“I better be going as well, Harry. You heard Ginny, I couldn’t have said it better. Hermione probably could have, but you know her. You know, you’re always welcome to come by at our place. And please consider mum and dad’s offer as well.”

“I know and I will. Don’t worry about me, I’ll make do.”

“You always say that, mate. Anyways, you know the drill. Get some sleep and take it slow. Let us know when you get home tomorrow or if you need any help. If we don’t see you at our house in the next few days, be prepared to have Hermione show up at yours. I’m sure she has been practicing a lecture about self-preservation already.”

“Ron, thank you for being here. Truly. But you need to get back to your family now. Say hi to Rose and Hermione for me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Don’t forget Percy’s birthday party!” Ron waves on his way out the door.

Once he is alone in the room, Harry lets the last hour wash over him again. His injuries are genuinely bad this time. There is a very real possibility that he might not play Quidditch again. At this thought, Harry’s skin crawls all over, his hands start shaking and his eyes begin to swim with tears of frustration. This can’t be it. A single malicious Bludger strike will not destroy his whole career. Soaring high above the Quidditch pitch is where he belongs, where he feels most at ease, what makes him get out of bed in the morning. There is no way he can give this up, even if the cost is to take a step back for a while. Harry wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and has a drink of water from the glass on his nightstand. Then he tries to go back to sleep, even if it is the middle of the afternoon.

* * *

After a night of fitful but thankfully dreamless sleep, the heavy feeling in Harry’s body has almost completely vanished. In the morning, he tentatively gets out of bed to take a shower. His legs remember walking just fine but somehow his eyes and brain and limbs don’t work together as they should. It reminds him of that one time when he got new glasses and the lens strength was all wrong. So this is was Healer Adebayo meant by compromised spatial awareness.

The following day, Harry has to endure a visit from Puddlemere’s trainer Poole, who is proficient in all things Quidditch but much less so in charisma and bedside manner. Poole mainly regurgitates what Harry suspects he was told to say by Llewyn. Poole uses the phrase “we’ll make do” too often to inspire confidence in Harry’s decision to take time off though. Puddlemere’s substitute seeker simply isn’t very good, especially in comparison to Harry, and everyone knows it.

The next visitor is Puddlemere’s publicist Christine – an American witch about Harry’s age who studied at a British muggle university and always was an avid fan of the British Quidditch league. In the few months of working with Puddlemere United nobody has apparently told her yet that Harry will not date her, even if she puts on half a bottle of perfume and unbuttons her blouse before every meeting. She is good at her job and perfectly nice otherwise, but she has a blind spot when it comes to her crush on Harry. Harry has lost count of how many meetings they’ve had over some tabloid printing photos of him and Ginny on a perfectly platonic coffee date or a walk through Hyde Park, implying everything other than friendship between them. Christine’s inquiries into his relationship status thinly veiled as publicist matters have been grating on Harry’s nerves. She should be glad that the tabloids think he is dating Ginny. Hogwarts sweethearts turned Quidditch pro sweethearts? It sounds much more marketable to Harry than the truth. Yet insisting that they are just friends time and time again hadn’t seemed to satisfy Christine, so a few weeks ago Harry resigned to giving vague, noncommittal answers and ignoring some of her questions outright.

Her visit fortunately doesn’t drag out long. She lets Harry read the press release announcing his injury-induced break without many details and he approves it. Apparently, it takes almost dying from a Bludger hit to get a reprieve from Christine’s incessant flirting attempts and Harry finds himself actually enjoying her presence a little bit. Turns out she has a fantastic dry sense of humour when she is not trying to impress Harry with her cleavage.

“I’m honestly glad that you survived this. And not just because, you know, you survived, but if you had died that would have been a PR nightmare to deal with. It’s already bad enough. Next time you plan to get hit by a Bludger, give me a heads up, will ya?” Christine says while packing up her parchments and quill.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t really plan on it?”

“Hmm, who knows what to believe that comes out of your mouth, Mr. Potter. Anyways, I have work to do. Let me know if you get up to something that I should know about before the press. And get well soon.” Harry flinches when she slams the door shut.

Healer Adebayo comes by with the discharge papers before noon. She explains the intake of some healing potions and makes Harry walk on a conjured straight line through the room and sit on the floor and get up multiple times to make sure that his condition isn’t too bad to let him leave.

“Mr. Potter, I think you’ll be pleased to hear that you’re already on a good track. Most people would still see worse effects on their perception and motion. You’re intense Quidditch training over many years has clearly heightened your sense of balance and spatial awareness. As I’ve explained to you before, the most important thing is to take some time off. Find a quiet place to relax, enjoy nature. When you feel up to it, some light exercise can also be beneficial but promise me you won’t overdo it.”

“Yes, yes. I promise. I want to get back to normal as soon as possible. Is there anything else I can do to speed up this process? Any experimental potions or something like that?” Harry pries, only half expecting new information he hadn’t been told yet.

“No, I’m afraid there’s nothing else,” Healer Adebayo responds. “I would recommend to go somewhere removed with clean air. Limit apparating and Floo travel as much as possible. Get outside as much as possible, sleep as much as necessary and eat healthy. The brain is very capable of repairing itself. It will do that fastest if you give it the ideal conditions for it.”

The frustration about not being able to do anything more creeps up on Harry again but he manages to squash it down before it overtakes his resolve to be a model patient and listen to his healer’s advice for quickest recovery. “I see. So, go outside, sleep, eat and wait. I should be able to do that.”

“Yes, that is precisely it. I have given Llewyn access to some resources on your condition as well. He will regularly check in with you during your recovery. Of course, you can also contact me, should questions arise. Once you feel that you have recovered completely, come in for a visit. I will do another thorough examination before I clear you to go back to Quidditch.” Healer Adebayo takes a quick look at Harry’s files again and closes it. “That should be everything for now. I wish you all the best for your recovery and hope to see you soon for the final examination.” As she gets up from her chair, Harry moves to shake her hand.

“Have a good day then, Mr. Potter.”

“You too. And thank you for the taking care of my injuries. I hope to be back as soon as possible.”

“No thanks needed, this is my profession. Oh, and take the Floo in the south wing of the third floor. It’s the gentlest one,” the healer says with a smile and leaves the room.

With a sigh Harry sits back on the unmade hospital bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. There is nothing he’d rather be doing than going straight back to Quidditch practice. But contrary to what some of his teammates and all of his friends would say, he does have some sense of self-preservation. Taking the time to recover from his injuries is the only way to make sure he can go back to Quidditch. Deciding on where to stay for the next few weeks seems a lot easier than figuring out what he would do with the rest of his life not on a racing broom.

Harry packs up the few of his belongings that Ron and Ginny brought with them and his healing potions and makes his way to the recommended fireplace on the third floor. There is no pain but his balance still feels off. Like it was pulled from his brain and re-inserted an inch to the left. Harry’s limbs remember how to walk just fine but every step gives him slight vertigo in a different direction.

He notices a few stares and whispers behind his back as people recognise him but thankfully nobody asks for an autograph or congratulates him on something or other. The times of whispers of the-boy-who-lived have long passed. Nowadays, it is most often the fact that he is a successful professional Seeker, who is known for genius but reckless broomwork that has him falling from the sky almost as often as it gets him the Snitch. The fact that Witch Weekly and other tabloids publish articles lusting after his “rugged bad-boy look and athlete’s body” and scrutinising his every move in public at least twice a week doesn’t help either. Especially since Rita Skeeter has again made it her personal quest to dissect Harry’s dating life, even if she has to fabricate most of it and twist the rest to fit her narratives. According to Skeeter’s articles, Harry has in the last year broken up and rekindled with Ginny twice, he had an affair with Hermione and two of his female teammates, one of which he got pregnant. Of course, every time Harry is seen in public with a male friend or teammate is conveniently ignored.

Harry finally makes it to the fireplace, grabs a fistful of Floo powder and prepares himself for the familiar discomfort. Healer Adebayo was right, this is the gentlest Floo trip Harry has ever experienced.


End file.
